


Power and Control

by CagedbyCravings



Category: Bakuten Shoot Beyblade, Beyblade
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-03
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-08-19 08:46:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8198738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CagedbyCravings/pseuds/CagedbyCravings
Summary: Life as an Lord  isn't easy with a family full of secrets. After an attack, Ralf unveils a conspiracy that could unravel the honorable and prideful lineage his family has built over the centuries.





	1. Autumn

 

 

* * *

 

 

**Power and Control**

**_Fall_ **

Ralf Jürgen enters the family politics as the Jürgen family implements actions on the Caribbean Islands where he meets someone who will challenge the meaning of honor.

His flight was on time down to the last minute, as usual. Conversing about the same subject with the same agenda, as usual. He wore his Armani suit with the slated tie, as usual. Drumming white gloved fingers with one hand and pressing an L-Shape into the frame of his face. His stultified scarlet eyes glazed over with boredom as he listened to the most Senior member of his father's- or rather, Germany's private sector. While Ralf had prided his family's lineage being deeply rooted in honor and integrity, he was well aware that not everyone in the German government and private sector shared the same values. Why Jean-Paul Barthez, a dark haired billionaire from France, was recommended to him wasn't exactly a wonder given the location they were flying. Irrational and brash, he was infamous for pushing the envelope on controversial topics. Corruption, Inciting Violence, Treasonous Acts; nothing was beneath his love and level of depravity.

Seated next to Jean-Paul Barthez was Secretary of Commerce, Judy Mizuhara. An American blonde who was currently eyeing the Frenchman with bewildered azures. Her selection was logical. She was rational, empathetic, forgiving. Her reputation was equally compassionate and keen, giving her presence precedence within countries that were often resistant to a democratic perspective.

Closing his eyes, a sudden realization clicked in his mind. _'Father sent an Devil and an Angel to watch over me. Yet one more test to determine if I'm following his lessons. Typical.'_

A flight attendant sauntered over to Ralf before whispering in his ear. Nodding quickly, he opened his eyes.

The plane descended onto the ground as Ralf led Mizuhara and Barthez into the hotel. An older but well preserved hotel awaited them on the oceanfront as the three dispatched assistants to retrieve their personal belongings. A grand staircase lined with uniformed staff awaited them as an older butler bowed before Ralf, warm smile offering a refreshing change to Gustav's presence back home.

"We are eager to serve you. Thank you for coming to Port de Paix." Broken but practiced English reached their ears as they nodded.

"May we bring you food or drink?"

"Not at this time. Where is your Conference area?"

"Right this way."

* * *

Ralf sighed as the meeting finally concluded. The dull rumblings of conclusions, schedules and half-truths served as an adequate meal for the elite committee as they lined up to exit the grand doors.

A buzzing rose from his pocket as Ralf resisted the urge to grasp the device from his pocket. The subtle motion wasn't swift enough to go unnoticed by his father currently on the television screen.

"You're dismissed for the day." Managing a begrudged nod, Ralf exited the room, distancing himself from his father's guests, he made for his hotel suite.

A text message bubbled from Oliver, inquiring about his plans. Responding quickly, he lamented that he would likely be groomed for the family business.

Oliver responded with various messages convincing his dear friend to leave the hotel and join him in the soiree next door.

After reconciling with the possibilities of his father's disciplining him, he shrugged and sent the following bubble, "I'll be there."

In the short walk, the Jürgen heir found the ocean air to be calming the tension in his shoulders.

Lights brightened the bowl shaped island as food and music provided a delicious combination of spice and sweetness. Realizing how rare a treat peace actually was for himself, he could practically hear Oliver's smirk from just a few feet away.

"How did you know I was here?"

"The same way I always know you're in Paris. You're drawn to what you can't have."

Oliver's breath was sprinkled with indulgence as he grinned with a cigarette in his hand.

Following his friend, Ralf felt his mind drift off to work. There was a myriad of potential contractors who would prove more than able to complete the tasks his father had planned.

"Are you listening?" Oliver's voice snapped him from his thoughts as the Jurgen blinked blankly towards his friend.

Ralf stared blankly at his friend.

"So life as a newly named Archduke hasn't been going well, eh?" Oliver watched his friend's eyes return to their stultified glaze.

"You need an outlet. A place to escape when the family pressures mount too high."

"I don't have time for that." Ralf spat.

"You ought to, before you're married and resentful." Oliver's whimsical intent escaped cynically, as he paused suddenly wishing he'd been better with his words watching his friend's eyes fall.

"Have they chosen?"

"I'm set to marry next Fall." The words heavy in their weight collapsed from his mouth. Ralf had been forced to endure betrothal after betrothal since puberty. His parents selecting potential wives for him after he'd finished puberty.

"She's a woman from German nobility. She will make a fine Duchess." The monotonous tone nearly broke Oliver's heart. His situation was different. Family pressures were gratified by a passion of his. He would join his father in the family restaurant, inheriting a penchant for entertainment and culinary arts for the rest of his years. Enrique's family was lackadaisical in these matters and Johnny took pleasure in the challenges befitting the stubborn demands of his family.

Scarlet eyes rose slowly as the mood shifted much to their gratitude. Honor, pride, lineage was his life but how could one night possibly hurt that?

Oliver witnessed an opportunity for redemption at the scent of something sweet in the distance.

"Come, let's feed you."

In their entire friendship, not one moment existed when Oliver's food recommendations didn't tempt Ralf as he obliged.

Feeling his friend on his arm, the German couldn't resist the smile tugging the corners of his mouth as lovingly as they reached into his heart, raising his very soul.

From the very first bite, Ralf felt taken with the essence of the island.

* * *

Morning brought with its arrival unwelcome rays of the sun as scarlet eyes burned with irritation. He was stiff as he realized his body wasn't comfortably nestled into the bed in the hotel. Feeling his shoulders scrape against the ground, scarlet eyes grew wide in panic as he attempted to recall the events of the night before. Unable to recall anything short of arriving on his family jet, he struggled to sit up.

Thunderous pain throbbed between his temples as his vision blurred. The rustling of a bush caused him to strain his eyes as he leaned forward too fast and toppled like an infant unable to balance themselves.

Swearing, he felt a surge of panic as he heard a cry from Oliver. Forcing himself to stand, he wobbled on his feet over to the rustling bush. His friend shivered and groaned, one hand covering his eye.

"Who's there?" The blader demanded.

"Oliver, it's me." Ralf kneeled slowly to his friend's level.

"I can't…really see." Oliver clutched at Ralf's shoulder. "We need to get out of here."

Ralf nodded as he gripped his friend's shoulder. A bush rustled beside them as the two tensed. Ralf instinctively reached for where his Beyblade _used_ to be. Internally cursing his father for forcing him to give up his childhood sport, he gripped only air instead of his beloved launcher.

Rounding his fists, he prepared to defend his friend. In a blink two uniformed men came out with assault rifles. Inching closer to them, the two friends felt the shivering pressure of fear freeze their movements. Behind them, another bush rustled as a woman with mid length spirals and celadon eyes peered blankly at the two of them before barking a threat at the armed men. Making a gesture with her hand, Ralf and Oliver watched as the two men glared before turning away. Looking at the woman, they witnessed her features soften just before a man rushed to her side. As they communicated in a language unfamiliar to the former bladers, Ralf blinked at the intricate designs along the arms of the woman. She leaned down slowly and extended her hand, "May I help you?"

Ralf and Oliver exchanged weary glances before Ralf reached for the hand of the woman before him. "Thank you." He slurred as his scarlet eyes fluttered. Collapsing into her arms, she looked at the man beside her before motioning for his assistance.

Reaching for Oliver, the woman offered a smile of reassurance as Oliver hesitantly returned the favor.

* * *

The air was misted with a perfume that infiltrated Oliver and Ralf's senses as silver and scarlet eyes fluttered open. A potent, earthy, and sweet scent clung to their flesh as they sat up with clearer minds.

"Ralf?" Oliver blinked at his former captain, looking for unspoken guidance.

"We're going to be fine, Oliver. We'll just need to find our way back to the hotel."

Surrounded by thick, velvet, wine colored curtains, the two scrambled to their feet whenever the shuffle of the lifted curtain reached their ears.

"Oh, you are awake." The woman from before had changed as her sepia flesh illuminated in the dimly lit room. A white and gold dress tied at her neck and her mid drift, silhouetting her curves as Ralf resisted the urge to stare.

"Where are we?"

"You're at The Crux."

"The Crux?"

"Yes, it's our home."

"We need to leave." Ralf asserted himself. "Kindly tell us how to reach the hotel on the beach."

The woman nodded. "Absolutely. I'll just need you to speak to Aramis first."

"Aramis?" Oliver spoke up. "Parlez-vous français?"

"Oui."

"Why have you brought us here?" Oliver demanded in his native language.

"To save you."

"From who?"

"You'll need to speak with Aramis about that."

Turning on heel, the woman motioned for them to follow her.

"Wait," Ralf returned the conversation back to English feeling rather spurned that Oliver had excluded him from the conversation. "May we have your name?

"The details of who I am are inconsequential. All I will say is that we are not looking for any sort of indemnification for the assaults on our people." Her face fell momentarily as Ralf wondered the intention of her words. Her body language didn't match her words. She seemed…reluctant to make eye contact with him.

Leading the two down the hall past one curtained room after another, before reaching a grand entry where the curtain was completely parted. Exchanging another glance at each other before entering, Ralf and Oliver braced themselves for the person shrouded in the shadows. Her body draped over the oversized pillows as a long pipe naturally extended from her mouth, delicately balanced in her hand.

"Lady Aramis, these are the two men we rescued this afternoon."

"Ah, yes. The heirs to the Jürgen and Bollinger families."

Narrowing their eyes, Ralf and Oliver tensed.

"We'd like to extend an offer to the two of you. We've grown quite aware of how much political interest your governments have on our country. We'd like to come to a compromise and in exchange I'll convince our government create a pact that would allow your countries access to our resources."

Oliver blinked in bewilderment providing ample room for Ralf to step forward. This was his area of expertise. His family had generations of striking international deals to benefit their family and country.

"What resources would you have to offer?"

"Oil, Iridium, Gold. We bear untapped millions waiting for a country to discover. The stipulations are simple. Bring about a proper name for our country. Utilize our resources to benefit our people out of poverty and above all…reinstate my children's rightful place in statehood."

"That's all doable. Though we'd need a liaison to communicate with." Ralf past an opportunistic smirk towards the woman they'd previously met.

Amaris sat forward, her hip lengths cesious twists tickling the floor as she looked over at the younger woman who offered unspoken acceptance.

"You have a deal,Jürgen ." Scarlet eyes locked with rustic brown as Ralf couldn't resist the smirk glued to his face.

' _Father won't have a choice but to leave me to this one.'_

A sudden and powerful wave of certainty filled Ralf as he felt completely in control of his fate for the first time in his life.

* * *

_**~A: Please let me know how you all enjoyed it.** _

 


	2. Fall: Chapter Two

  _ **~A: This is hopefully coming along well. Please forgive the short scenes this chapter.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the OC's and the plot.** _

 

* * *

 

 

Power and Control

 

The whir of the plane combined with the taking off was more than enough to unnerve the latest passenger on the Jurgen’s private jet. Watching her fidget with her seat buckle was clear enough to Ralf that she was unaccustomed to flying. His scarlet eyes did little to soften as she controlled her unease with varying her breathing. Upon reaching a level safe enough to move, he felt beaten by Oliver’s swift decision to sit beside her. Distance and a language barrier excluded him once again to his annoyance. Oliver seemed to be calming her with some of his infamous flattery, earning himself a smile.

Mizuhara tugged at his attention, as Ralf politely acknowledged her concerns and gently assured her that he had no permanent damage to report.

“If you don’t mind my asking,” Mizuhara lowered her voice. “Who exactly is that woman and why is she returning with us to Germany?’

“She is our liaison between Haiti and Germany. I’ll be speaking with my father about the arrangement we’ve made. By the way, where is Barthez?”

“He was called away shortly after we realized you’d disappeared. He said there was some imperative business he needed to tend to in Russia.”

Ralf quirked an eyebrow whenever the laptop in front of him dinged. Undoubtedly his father, Ralf prepared himself for a lecture. Instead, the heir received a stern and irritated inquiry on how close he was to the deadline regarding his first political endeavor.

Mizuhara felt a sting of guilt watching the exchange as she could only sigh and look out the window.

Ralf grit his teeth. “Yes, I _am_ quite aware of how close we are to the deadline. However, I have some excellent news that to share-.”

“You can share it upon your return. I must attend a conference with the conservative parties regarding the economics of our latest venture. And son,” A man of identical likeness to Ralf glowered on the screen. “try to eschew tarnishing our family’s good name on this.”

Clamping the laptop lid closed, Ralf screwed his eyes closed, attempting to dissuade his bubbling anger. Overlooking his shoulder, he couldn’t help but feel an intertwining of hope and desperation whenever he looked at the woman currently relaxed beneath Oliver’s gaze.

The two were still communicating in French whenever they noticed Ralf’s stare. Realizing that he still didn’t have her name, he rose from his chair and placed himself on the opposite side of the woman. She tensed underneath his gaze, feeling her shoulders rise defensively.

“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced. My name is Ralf Jurgen.” The introduction seemed to quell only her unease as uncertainty still filled her celadron eyes. “And you are?”

“I’ve already said that who I am is inconsequential.”

“That’s not accurate. You still ought to share your name. It’ll be necessary to introduce you to various people when we arrive.”

“In Germany?” She suddenly felt nervousness dip into her stomach.

“Yes. In Germany.” Registering the change in her tone, he furrowed his brow, shooting a look towards his friend for assistance.

“Ralf stems from a very important family. His name is well renowned and it’s vital to properly be able to introduce you.” Envying their budding connection, Ralf cursed his ability to not befriend as easily as Oliver.

“Imani Lantier.” She said after a moment. Her eyes seemed uncertain as if this were her first time saying her name out loud.

“Imani. How lovely.” Oliver cooed. Ralf nodded before offering a fake smile. “Now we have somewhere to begin.”

* * *

 

Their landing was anticipated by Gustav. The family butler had served loyally since Ralf’s father was a child, earning him a position as being the most trustworthy eyes and ears to his family.

Ralf knew that he didn’t _need_ to provide a reason for Imani’s stay but having a valid means could serve him as possible leverage later on. Deciding that he would wait for a more appropriate time, he extended a hand to Imani who reluctantly grasped as he pulled her from the privet jet.

Feeling Gustav’s stare on them, he straightened himself and prepared to give an order.

The butler seemed to sense the request and bowed instinctively.

“Welcome home Master Robert, Master Oliver. I am glad to see you safe. May I bring you anything?”  

“Tea.” Ralf gently instructed leading Oliver and Imani into the home. Imani didn’t seem overly moved by the grand size of the castle or the grandiose hall that welcomed them. Ralf contemplated whether he should be offended at her underwhelming reaction. Her eyes didn’t round to the size of saucers upon seeing the knight’s armor line through the halls. Her voice didn’t escalate to unnatural levels at the sight of the rich tapestries, the only vague effort of interest she exuded, was in the portraits of his family’s previous generations.

Ignoring Gustav’s announcement for tea, Ralf turned towards Imani, his stare pressing into her harder as he stepped closer.

Every step he took decreased her focus on the portraits, as she eventually turned; bringing them face to face.

Imani’s expression was one of irresolution. The private jet, the castle, the butler, and now _what_? What would she be brought to next? The fervent feeling of monachopsis coiled within her, as she did everything in her ability to mask her discomfort with neutrality.

“Would you care for some tea?” His voice jolted her from her thoughts as she nodded.

“Thank you.”

“Please, follow me, then.” Ralf turned, leading her down the hallway to the dining room. 

Feeling Gustav pull out her chair, Imani sat before realizing that she was uncertain of what to do with her hands. Deciding that clasping them in her lap would suffice, Oliver smirked at her brief uncertainty. His expression lasted throughout their evening tea serving, as the Bollinger heir covered his rising yawn.

“I really should retire for the evening.” Standing, he bid the two goodnight before exiting.

Gustav stood in the shadows, taking note of the Jurgen’s latest guest. His assessment didn’t assume she was a prostitute though the possibility didn’t escape his mind completely. Especially given the instructions on just _who_ would be joining them at their estate within the near future. Reading her body language, the butler watched her blink and nod her head repeatedly. Jet lag lulled her senses as she could all but remain sitting up.

“Shall I prepare your guest a room?”

“Please do.” Ralf affirmed, sipping the rest of his tea. Gustav bowed before passing a quick glance over his shoulder. Imani didn’t _appear_ to be a threat, but in these days, you could never be too careful.  

Momentarily resting his eyes on her, Ralf felt the gears of manipulation turning faster. Finally, having the opportunity to create his own chapter in the family legacy. Finally, having being the one person is charge of han

* * *

dling a highly political endeavor that would surpass anything completed in generations. And above all, _finally_ having his father see him as more than a waste source of resources. Leaving the end result to, dare he suggest, _bond_ with his father. _‘As father and son should.’_

A thought occurred to him about his father’s whereabouts. He hadn’t seen any additional lights leading towards to his father’s study. Eliminating the places his father wouldn’t be, he closed his eyes. Gustav reentered the room to announce that the guest room Imani would be retiring is, was ready.

Ralf opened his eyes and stood. Towering over Imani, his eyebrow quirked at the how blasé her eyes were. A perturbed feeling descended over his heart as questions in a language he was unfamiliar with began to echo through his veins.

* * *

 

Opening the door to the guest suite, Imani was greeted by the grandiose size of the antiquated room. Ralf furrowed his brows at the sight of her two very small bags. An old suitcase and messenger bag.

“Do you believe this to be a short trip?” Standing behind her, he failed to hide the condescension in his voice. 

“I haven’t set an estimation for my stay. Should I have?” Imani turned to face the heir, eyes unwavering in their indifference. 

Ralf blinked before clearing his throat at the awkward pause. “Well, it’s quite late. We should return to this conversation in the morning. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” She echoed before turning as Ralf closed the door.

The overwhelming feeling of displacement coiled her for the second time as Imani wrung her hands uncertain of where to sit. Choosing the bed, she tucked the sheets under her fingers, feeling the fine quality fibers on her sepia flesh.

_‘And to think, people born on this side of the tracks, sleep like this daily.’_

Jetlag conquered her senses in its finality, as she no longer resisted the urge to sleep. Lying her body against the blankets, she inhaled the subtle scent of lavender before relaxing into her exhale.

* * *

 

The necessity for sleep irked Ralf as his mind was resistant to sleep despite his body’s demands. Adhering, he reclined in the loveseat, briefly locking eyes with his reflection. He was disheveled. A trait unfitting for an Archduke. Blocking out his teachings this close to bed, he pinched the bridge of his nose before finally submitting toe the primal demands of sleep. 

* * *

 

Ralf awoke with a start as the sound of knocking reached his ears. The knocking sounded impatient as he glared at the entry to his suite. “Come in.”

“Sorry to wake you this early, but father’s called me home. There’s a banquet at our restaurant and I’m needed to prepare.” Oliver chirped despite the exhausted look on his friend’s face.

Ralf murmured something incoherent as Oliver chuckled before turning. The Bollinger heir overturned his shoulder. “And one more thing, take it easy with Imani. She may not seem like it, but she’s a gentle soul. Try not to manipulate her too much.”

His friend’s caveat stirred his senses awake. “How do you mean?”

“You intend to use her as a pawn. That’s been clear from the beginning. I won’t lecture you on how to play your game of chess but I will caution you against leaving her in such a vulnerable position. You above anyone else know what can happen if a king loses sight of the pieces he was set to protect for a selfish endeavor. ”

Oliver smirked before shoving his hands in his coat.

**“ **À la prochaine.”****

* * *

_**~A: Please review and let me know what you thought.** _

 


	3. Fall: Chapter Three

_**~A: The next chapter. And to those reading my other story, I am still working on it. Just a bit of Writer's Block is all.** _

_**  
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the OC's.** _

* * *

 

 

 

Ch, III

One month had passed since Imani had agreed to serve as the liaison between Haiti and Germany. Scarlet eyes blinked as Oliver’s caveat echoed into the crevices of his mind. Adjusting his suit, and running a comb through his hair, he sighed at his reflection. Doubt riddled his body whenever meetings with his father were set.  His father acted similarly to an hawk that stalked its prey looking for a mistake. Shaking away the memories of his anxious childhood, Ralf exhaled sharply before Gustav’s knock served as a reminder that his father was growing impatient.

The silent walk down the hallway did little to calm his nerves. Feeling Gustav’s officious stare wasn’t helping either as Ralf finally stopped and sighed. “What is it?”

“Your guest, Master Ralf. She snuck out again last night. Also,” Gustav’s eyes flashed in irritation. “She keeps singing and doing strange motions with her body. The maids are frightened that she’s performing a curse.”

Ralf blinked. He did come from a religious family, though the subject of curses and blessings often fell short in his mind. _‘Prayers often lead to more prattling than practicality.’_ “I’ll speak with her after the meeting.” He sighed before continuing towards the staircase. Facing the open door to his father’s study, he took a reassuring breath before entering. His father waited in the shadows. His face enshrouded away from the morning light.

“I am told that you took it upon yourself to correspond with a liaison while in Haiti.”

Feeling slighted less than ten seconds into the meeting with his father, Ralf internally subdued his irritation. _‘So much for exchanging exciting information myself.’_

“I did. Her country is willing to enter a resource agreement.” Almost standing attention, Ralf locked himself in place, prepared for a lecture.

Ralf’s father blinked, sardonic tone transcending the need to use his voice. Scarlet eyes locked as Gustav suddenly entered the room with a tray of tea. Feeling the expectation to break the stare, Ralf obeyed before gazing down.

“What does she want in exchange for resources? Diplomatic protection? Militaristic training?” Stirring his tea, the elder Jurgen brought the cup to his lips.

“Among other stipulations, reinstated statehood.”

A lock of greying violet hair jolted as Adalric Jurgen glowered at his son.

“Who _exactly_ is this liaison serving?”

“A woman named Lady Aramis.”

The porcelain tea cup cracked from the pressure exerted by his father’s reaction. Ralf narrowed his eyes.  When Germany’s economy faced collapse and Ralf’s proposal salvaged enough financial resource to deter from a recession just one year before; he remained stoic. When rumors circulated that Germany intended to leave the EU because of his father’s incisive decision to dissuade the Prime Minister on the decision resulting in death threats, his father remained imperturbable. Why did this seem to vex him?

“You’re dismissed.” The hiss was venomous as Ralf slowly exited the room under his father’s order to close the door behind him.

Curiosity grew where concern should have been planted as Ralf smirked. Could his father be the one hiding something? Could he _finally_ have the opportunity to earn more than respect from the man who always demanded but never gave?

His mood was disrupted by one of the maids shrieking in German.  “Vile witch! Vile witch!”

Reaching the top of the stairs, he raised a skeptical brow at the young maid currently fuming at Imani’s guest suite.

Upon seeing Ralf, she bowed and apologized before rushing in the opposite direction.

Knocking on the door, he heard a sigh. Infuriation swung open the door as Imani’s face faded from anger to surprise.

“Oh, hello.”

“Are the maids pestering you?” Ralf watched her eyes flicker over his shoulder, as one of the maids stormed over to them.

“Master Ralf,” She huffed in German. “ _This…_ woman refuses to eat her food in the dining hall. She barely eats at all!”

As concerning as the shrill attack on his ears was, Ralf found himself more preoccupied with how little his liaison was allegedly eating.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention.” Ralf nodded before dismissing the sneering maid. Imani stood defensively as Ralf locked eyes with her.

“It has come to my understanding that you haven’t been eating.”

Imani bit her lower lip, eyes flickered with uncertainty.

“May I come in?” Ralf unfolded his hand towards her.

She stood out of his way, watching his gaze befall upon the room. In her duration, she hadn’t shown any signs of relishing in the comforts he’d offered.

“Are you comfortable?” Meandering towards the side table near the reading nook, he noticed a sketch book with an ongoing drawing nearly identical to a picture snapped by a camera. Thin lines of a woman sat in a chair, pen bleeding into paper. Behind the woman’s head were thinly lined symbols and designs unfamiliar to him. Furrowing his brows, he blinked as Imani read his facial expression.

“I draw the faces last. In order to capture the full emotion of the piece.” Hearing the first real sentence flow from her lips, caused a skip in Ralf’s heart.

“You ought to speak more. You have a lovely voice. Not to mention, your art is outstanding.”

An internal nerve twitched as Imani blinked weary of the sudden kindness. 

“How long have you drawn?”

“Since before I could write or speak.”

Nodding, Ralf noticed the beginnings of other sketches. Before locking eyes with her.

“What can I do to make you more comfortable here?”

Imani stiffened.  “Tell me what progress has been made by your government in order to help my country.”

“Politics isn’t as swift or simple as you make it. It’s a slow game of carefully played chess.”

The mood shifted as Ralf caught his first glimpse of actual emotion from Imani. A pained expression of sadness befell her body language as he suddenly felt compelled to reassess his analogy.

“Imani, would you like to discuss it over coffee? I know of a cafe that serves the most delightful coffee in the city.”

For the first time, Ralf noticed she didn’t look completely aloof when he spoke to her. Her eyes locked with his, as they almost softened against the morning’s rays.

* * *

 

The drive to the city was quiet yet pleasant as Ralf glanced over to see Imani all but press her fingers against the glass of the windows. The leaves offered their colors array of vibrant Autumn. Watching her eyes light up at the museum was like feeling the sun for the first time.

 

Arriving at the café, Ralf opened Imani’s door instinctively. Her eyes brightened as an unexpected rush of joy rushed upon his heart.

 

The geniality and brightness stemming from her happiness was enough for Ralf to forget the rest of the world’s existence. He’d spent time translating and explaining his country’s history to her, gaining a closeness at every question. He couldn’t get enough of her. She was so eager to learn and keen to comprehend every word. He envied the moments lost to her eyes when she’d blink. He envied her tongue for tasting the lipstick off her lips before he could. And most of all, he envied the silence that stole away her breath as she breathed.

 

“So,” She began, tone warm as the coffee they sipped. “In your country, there is both a mixture of capitalism and socialism within the economy? And your tax rate is substantial enough to provide for formal education and medical care?”

 

“Yes, quite.” Ralf watched her eyes glimmer with hopeful anticipation. “Is that something you hope for in your country?”

 

Imani nodded. “It is.”

 

“Is this your first time leaving Haiti?”

 

Imani smiled. “Is it that obvious?”

 

Ralf chuckled. “I’m afraid so.”

An awkward pause ensued as the two took sips of their beverages.

 

Clearing his throat, Ralf noticed her windswept spirals were a rich umber, gently creased to the side of her neck. The sun brightened her celadron eyes as he admired the contrast to her flesh.

 

Such a unique moment couldn’t last forever as his phone vibrated disrupting his thoughts. Excusing himself, Ralf stood from the table and made the veranda outside. Imani, watched him lean against the entry, a smile curving her face.

 

Hope lightened the load of resentment as she considered releasing the idea that Ralf’s privilege would make him intolerable. ‘ _He doesn’t seem like the others I’ve met. He actually seems genuinely interested in what I have to say. There’s no patronizing or infantilizing with him.’_

 

Glancing down at her scone, she finally felt comfortable eating. She had survived off the barest minimum since arriving. Distrusting the condescending whispers of the maids and ever growing ire of that butler, caused a loss in her appetite and an unfortunate spike in her hypoglycemia.

 

Enjoying the mixed berry scone, she blinked upon hearing Ralf’s voice.

 

“Glad to see you’re eating!” He returned to his seat as she realized how caught up in her thoughts she had been.

 

“These are delicious. Thank you for bringing me here.” Shielding her chewing from his sight, Imani felt her eyes light up as Ralf offered a napkin.

 

“If you like, we can come here to have our conversations.”

 

Imani nodded. “I’d like that.”

 

“Would you like more? I can have our family chef prepare these for you at the house.”

 

Gulping the final bite of her scone, Imani’s eyes fell onto her plate. “I am not quite hungry at your home.”

 

Ralf tilted his head before realizing why. “Because of the maids. I can assure you that they aren’t doing anything to your food.”

 

“Can you? What situation would you have ever needed to test that assurance in?”

 

Ralf paused, mouth slightly parted at the question. Floored at the inquiry, he broke his stare to question himself. Lifting his gaze to match hers, he suddenly felt uncertain of a viable solution.

 

“I don’t expect you to struggle to ensure that I’m eating. I can do so on my own.”

 

“Thus, your reason for sneaking out at night.”

 

Imani nodded, unabashedly.

Ralf was silent whenever the thought occurred to him. “Would you be interested in having kitchen access?”

 

Imani blinked curiously. “That would be marvelous.”

 

Ralf offered a proposal. “So it’s a deal. You gain access to the kitchen in exchange for no more sneaking out.”

 

“I’d be willing to make that deal on one stipulation.” Imani watched as Ralf lifted a brow. “The maids stop harassing me about every little detail. From my hair, to my clothes, to my oils.”

 

“Your oils?”

 

“Yes. The ones I brought from home.”

 

Ralf nodded before lifting his glass. “To our first deal. May many others soon follow.”

 

Imani lifted her glass. “ _Prost.”_  

 

Earning herself a smirk from Ralf, the two toasted their beverages.

 

* * *

 

 

The day had been productive to say the least. Ralf and Imani had worked out the beginnings of an effectual resource exchange. Proper aid would help those suffering during natural disasters, proper infrastructure would assist in reducing damage, and the largest element would include technology and education supplied to the locals in order to prevent further disasters. Progress would be implemented at various increments spanning the next several months to years.

 

Ralf had remained patient and understanding in regards to Imani’s tenacity. “My people cannot wait weeks let alone years! The Caribbean is riddled with earthquakes and hurricanes. Is there any way we can strike a deal that will take less time?”

  
Her celadron eyes flashed with passion, not anger. A trait Ralf had recognized amongst his fellow business dealings. “I understand, Imani. The fastest deadline I could imagine would be by the beginnings of next year. Mid to late February at the soonest.”

 

Imani, looked away from the table at the setting sun clouded by clouds. The chill in the Autumn air seems to cool her as she bit her concede. “Fine but we send twice as many resources. Surely your country can spare that much.”

 

“This isn’t a matter of my country being able to spare resources as it is convincing the bureaucracy to allow access.”

 

Imani frowned before cupping her hand on the table before her. “What does the process entail?”

 

Ralf sighed. “A lot of deliberating. It’ll be easier if we can bring something to the table. How soon can your country offer some of its resources?”

 

“How much would be necessary to convince your _bureaucrats_ to help our country?” Imani didn’t bother to hide her irritation.

 

Ralf glanced around the emptying room. Their table was a good distance away from anyone else’s though the walls always had ears listening.

 

Ralf stood instructing her to follow him to his car.

 

Opening her door, Ralf grimaced at the feeling they were being watched.

 

Imani sensed his caution as he started the car.

 

They arrived to a backroad off the highway as Ralf turned off the engine and the lights. Imani turned to him to speak whenever he placed a finger to his lips.

 

She waited patiently, senses intensifying in the silence _. They were followed_.

 

Despite the realization, the two remained unmoving in their eye contact. Some hundred feet away, two cars parked on a hill. Two sets of men exited the vehicles to converse in German.

 

“Did you see where they went?”

 

“Not at all. We need to report this back to the boss.”

 

“Report what? That we heard only a glimpse of their conversation? The boss would be more irritated by us wasting his time.”

 

A minute ticked past slowly before the mysterious men returned to their cars and drove away.

 

Ralf lowered his hand from his mouth daring to blink. “We will need to be more cautious about where we conduct our dealings from here on out.”

 

Imani nodded. “So where exactly are we?”

 

“We’re about forty-five minutes away from the house. There are a number of backroads I discovered when I needed space from my family.”

 

“Space? In the size of your castle?” Imani laughed as Ralf couldn’t resist the hilarity of his words.

 

“I suppose that does seem odd.”

 

A much needed deflation from the tension of their initial meeting, Ralf and Imani looked at one another before glancing in opposite directions.

 

“Imani,” Ralf gripped the steering wheel before mustering up the courage to ask his question. “Do you enjoy being at the Jurgen estate? You don’t seem impressed.”

 

“Impressed isn’t the word I would have used. I do feel often displaced. It’s more grandiose than I anticipated.”

 

Ralf’s eyes fell, discouragement befalling him.

 

“That said,” Celadron eyes locked with scarlet. “I am feeling better now that we’ve begun speaking more regularly. The walls of your home don’t seem as confining now that I have been able to enjoy some time away.”

 

Ralf smiled as the mood elevated. “I’m grateful to hear that.”

 

* * *

 

 

Their return to the Jurgen household was swifter than either of them preferred. The sliding garage door comfortably embraced the expensive car as Ralf parked and opened the door to the family home. Imani entered before him as a yawn overwhelmed her before she succeeded in covering her mouth.

 

“So, sorry.”

 

“Don’t be. We’ve covered a great deal today. We should retire for the evening.”

 

Imani blinked at Ralf as she began to climb the staircase. “Thank you.”

 

He blinked curiously at her. “Whatever for?”

 

“For listening to me.” Facing the stairs, she made for her quarters.

 

* * *

 

 

He couldn’t shake why her words had meant so much to him. There was nothing ornate or spectacular about them. Pepole said them on a regular basis however tonight, he heard them differently. Ralf leaned against the bedframe closing his eyes whenever the realization struck him.

 

 _She was grateful._ A trait rare to find in the privileged circles. A sudden rush of understanding filled him replaying the moments leading up to tonight. The weariness in her body language on the plane. The watchful and uncertainty when he stood over her the night they arrived. The way her eyes changed. It wasn’t just a mere discussion where she was heard; she was actively _listened_ to.

 

Ralf tried to imagine a life like that. Where people didn’t act obsequiously in his presence. His attempts were futile as he swiftly arrived to the conclusion that he could _never_ fully understand where Imani came from. Glancing at the clock on the bedside table, sleepy scarlet eyes attempted to blink away the thought. He could _never_ truly understand what she felt. It was late, he needed rest. Morning would require him to prep for his next case with the Economics Division.

 

Tucking himself into bed, he closed his eyes whenever Oliver’s voice came to him. _‘You’re drawn to what you can’t have.’_

 

Furring his brows, he tried to shake away the thought. _‘Oliver lives a life filled of indulgence. Surely he didn’t intend for that to apply here.'_

 

* * *

 


	4. Winter: Chapter One

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the OC’s.

 

* * *

 

Power and Control

 

Winter: Chapter I

 

Celadron eyes danced from frame to frame lining the great hall. Portraits dating back centuries.  The largest one rose ten feet about her and reflected the current Jürgen generation. A man of Ralf’s identical likeness stood in a suit with his hand on his wife’s shoulder. A lithe woman with blonde hair cropped acutely. Not a strand displaced. Razor-like cheekbones slit into her face. Then there was Ralf. Standing in a calculated distance from his parents. Far enough for the invisible chain around his neck to remain connected to the stern wrists of his parents, close enough to yank should he step out of line. He too stood in a manner similar to his father, eyes unwavering in their demands. Imani spent the most time with their eyes. Piercing, powerful, pragmatic.

She had just arrived to the temperature of the portrait whenever she sensed a distraction. Behind her was Gustav. Rolling her eyes and sharply inhaling, she forced out her breath before turning around. Feeling pressure to remain courteous as she was still only a guest, she nodded politely before passing the butler on the stairs. He clicked his tongue and muttered something under his breath. She couldn’t hear it and even if she did, it wouldn’t be in any language she understood. She could feel his stare as she reached the foot of the staircase.

To her left was the kitchen. To the front of her was the door. To the right of her was a closed study. Gustav’s eyes sharpened on her. Mentally daring Imani to even try to enter the study.

She had no intentions of doing so. Though that wouldn’t be a valid argument. She knew what to expect during her stay. Tolerance did not equate to welcome.

Turning towards the left, she flicked on the light to find the gourmet styled kitchen immaculately prepared. Somewhere between breakfast and lunch, Imani chose a light and easy omelet. Admiring the selection of chopped onions, bell peppers and cheese, she hummed softly to herself. Unbeknownst to her, Ralf had returned from his meeting with the Economic Division early. His case was presented, discussed, and finalized. The hearing went swifter than he’d anticipated. Not expecting Gustav to greet him, he removed his own coat and gloves whenever his attention was drawn to the kitchen.

His scarlet eyes lit up upon seeing Imani in the kitchen. Soft words danced from her mouth towards the food, as if she were beckoning the egg dish to join her. Every movement, every ingredient, every touch, intentional. Every word, every smile, every glance, willing. Her cooking gracefully guided the senses into _savoring_ instead of just _sustaining_ oneself. There was something different about her. An air of mysticism that lured him in. Struggling to keep himself steadied against the doorframe, he watched her finish.

Lifting the first omelet onto the plate, Imani smiled before looking over towards him. “Have you eaten?”

Shielding his surprise, he leaned off the door frame. “How long did it take you to realize I was here?”

“Irrelevant. Please,” She motioned for him to sit at the island in the center of the room. “Have some.”

He did so with a look of bemusement on his face as she handed him a fork before joining his side. He watched her take a bite, eyes closing in enjoyment. Chuckling he opened his mouth to do the same. Eyes widening, he felt his stomach flip.

“This is delicious.” Swift and simple, he felt a bout of shame at missing the light in Imani’s eyes at the compliment.

“Thank you.”

Upon finishing, Ralf felt the touch of a napkin against his lips as Imani froze at her own action.

“I- You- There was a crumb.” She stammered. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

Ralf laughed. For the first time in nearly two years, his laugh rose from deep in his stomach. Hearty, healthy, healing.

Imani looked away, as he gently grasped his hand around hers. “Imani, thank you.”

Releasing the napkin, she nodded before nervously clasping her hands in her lap. Seeing the empty plates, she went to stand whenever Ralf stopped her. “Imani, I have news about today’s meeting.”

She couldn’t decipher the tone of his voice. Placid was how she decided to describe his expression.

“The division agreed to the trade deal...200,000 Euros will be sent to Haiti annually for the duration of the agreement.”

Imani’s eyes shined as elation took over. “That’s amazing!” She grinned as the plates clamored to the counter. Checking to make sure they hadn’t broken, Ralf stood and resisted the urge reach for her hands. She was trembling with excitement, stammering thanks before rushing upstairs to phone Lady Aramis.

Left alone, Ralf smiled momentarily ignoring that Imani was meant to remain a political ally and nothing more. After seeing such jubilation, he craved more. Rattling his mind, he questioned what he could do to continue that joy. Then suddenly, an idea struck him as a flash of white sky caught his attention.

* * *

 

Her door was ajar just enough to him to see the joy still twinkling in her eyes. Swift Haitian Creole bounced off her tongue as Ralf tried to recall seeing someone with this much happiness in his life.

She twirled and giggled and gesticulated wildly around her room as Ralf glanced over his shoulder at Gustav’s sudden presence.

“Master Ralf, Alberta Essert has arrived.” Feeling his joy suffocated by vexation, Ralf stormed the hall. His hand gripped the railing as scarlet eyes burned holes into his unpalatable guest.

The lithe blonde handed off her coat to the maids before clasping her arms together at the sight of the Jürgen  heir. “Splendid to see you, Ralf!” Her silvery voice and large viridian eyes made her an excellent match. Add in her noble heritage and suitors would line out the door. Despite this, Ralf felt no attraction nor animosity. She did no wrong to him, there just wasn’t a connection. Not like-

Shaking away the thoughts, he reluctantly descended the staircase. “You weren’t expected until Spring.” His flat tone went unnoticed.

“Yes, well I decided to stop by in time for the holiday. Won’t Oliver be hosting his annual soiree?

Ralf closed his eyes, realizing that his friend’s family dinner _was_ being held in the upcoming weeks. “Yes, but Alberta, you see there’s something we need to discuss.”

“What, you don’t have a side chick I don’t know about, do you?” Nuzzling his nose, Ralf stiffened at her touch.

“No but there’s a matter of business I need to tend to this-“

“Oh, business, business, business. Do you think of anything else?” Her lips spread into a smile that Ralf couldn’t help but feel he should be taken with and yet, he just didn’t.

* * *

 

Imani ended her call, cheeks hurting from the amount of smiling she’d done. In search of Ralf, she stopped mid step in the shadows leading to the staircase. Disappointment lay heavy to her previously soaring enchantment as her expression fell. Arms snaked around his neck, hips just inches from grinding against his, and Ralf’s face turned away from sight, Imani arrived to one conclusion. Two maids carting Alberta’s belongings stopped just inches away to mutter in German. Taking note of Imani’s vulnerable body language, the two maid spoke loud enough for Imani to hear clearly. “What a pleasure it’ll be to have the Master’s fiancé with us for the holiday.” “Oh yes, indeed.” Containing their snickering, Imani waited until they disappeared down the hall before returning to home.  

Overbearing solemnity caused Imani to prop herself against the door, her jubilation vanished from her eyes. Slumping to the ground, she blinked at the unlit fireplace _,_ a sardonic chuckle falling from her lips. _‘Foolish.’_ She scolded herself. _‘Losing sight of the damned plan with so much on the line. Of course he has someone. Luxury wouldn’t be complete unless he was engaged as well.’_

Looking towards her bathroom, she rose to her feet continuing to admonish herself. Water rushed out of the shower head as her clothes dropped to the ground. Steam engulfed her body as she held thinly veiled hope that the drops could wash away her disappointment. _‘He was only extending a profession courtesy. I have no right to feel singed by the burning sting of betrayal.’_

* * *

Morning rose as Ralf stretched uncomfortably in his chair. Realizing he’d made another false promise to sleep in his bed, he sighed ruffling his hair. Staring at a nearby clock, he decided that if he were to be completely productive his day would need to start before breakfast. A flash of Imani’s omelet caused his stomach to rumble in nostalgia for the delight she emanated.

He wasn’t usually a fan of breakfast, but what harm could there be to make an exception?

Closing the door silently, he made sure to not disturb Alberta who slept just down the hall from him.

Taking the back entrance to the kitchen, he slipped out of the shadows to see Imani standing at the island, her expression forlorn causing a pit of discomfort in his stomach. A painful distance had separated them as Ralf had little time to dedicate to anyone short of Alberta’s social needs. The only downfall to her persona, seemed to be her clinginess and demands to not leave his side even while working. She’d bemoan anytime he’d need to make a phone call or leave for a meeting. Internalizing his displeasure, he looked at Imani.

Uncertain if breakfast was a good idea after all, he contemplated returning to his room. Fate had other plans as a forgotten broom lost its balance, sliding to the floor. Loud enough for Imani to jolt, Ralf watched the tea spill from her glass onto her wrist as she hissed. Rushing for a towel to dab on the afflicted area, he apologized repeatedly.

“It’s quite alright. I was just startled.” Imani and Ralf’s hands brushed against each other’s on dampening towel. The two avoided eye contact whenever the smell of cooking bread reached their senses. Buttered Danish slices dabbed with butter, rising in the oven as Imani turned to retrieve them. Placing one on a plate, she felt inclined to offer one to her host.

Sensing the offer, Ralf gently negated insisting he was only there for a quick glass of water. Dismay still apparent on her features, Imani nodded before turning off the oven.

Turning on the faucet, he filled the glass feeling Imani’s gaze. “Is something the matter?”

“Is the water safe to drink from the faucet?”

“Quite. Why-“  Blinking at her concerned expression, he evaluated his inquiry. “Is it unsafe where you’re from?”

A quiet nod and a weary glance as Imani watched his take a drink. Finishing the glass, he set it in the sink. “We can discuss that if you like. Uncontaminated water usually falls under a separate category but I’m willing to bet we can explore that option.”

Imani nodded. “We should. And I have the first shipment of Iridium prepared if your delegates need a trade.”

“That would be beneficial.” Ralf offered a smile in an attempt to lighten the mood. Suddenly wishing Oliver was present, his scarlet eyes grew wide with an idea. “Would you care to join me in Paris for the Bollinger Christmas?”

Imani blinked. “I’m unfamiliar with-“

“It’s an annual soiree that Oliver’s family hosts. It’d be a true delight if you attended.”

“I wouldn’t wish to get in the way...” Imani dropped her gaze.

 _‘In the way of…Alberta and-‘_ He couldn’t finish the thought.

“She’d likely travel separately. To avoid the media frenzy.”

Imani nodded in understanding.

“So, would you like to go?” Ralf held his breath, hoping she didn’t notice.

Contemplating her options, she nodded. “Sure. I’ll go.” Her voice was little above a whisper as Ralf sensed she’d been crying the night before.

Ralf half smiled, disheartened that the invite didn’t lighten the mood. “We’ll leave at the end of the week.”

* * *

 

 

 

 

****

****

****

****

 


	5. Winter: Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the OC's. 

* * *

 

 

Power and Control

 

Winter: Chapter II

 

 

Imani stood before her mirror. Her evening gown was an array of colors ranging from blues to purples to reds. Crossed over opposite shoulders, she heard the maids curse and snicker before Imani shooed them away. Her body type was neither slender or athletic. She wasn’t plump or thin. She had wide shoulders and hips typical of the women back home. She also bore one more glaringly obvious taboo deemed uncouth in the genteel Jürgen household; her tattoos. Between her shoulders was a black lined veve dedicated to her precious _Loa_ Erzulie. The thought of her home country struck a pang of guilt in her heart. Her improper good-byes were bullshit. Her voice sounded baseless as if she wasn’t even certain that she would arrive safely to Germany. The phone call earlier in the week was the first time she’d felt of any use to her mother. Lady Aramis wasn’t one to put pressure on her, but Imani felt indebted after being spared by the government sex ring that targeted her age group. Her trip to Germany wasn’t just opportunistic, it was _vital_ to achieving a purpose in her life.

A knock alerted her senses as Imani quickly tucked her braids back with greying dove pins revealing her ears.

Upon opening the bedroom door, she was surprised to see Ralf standing in his Armani suit. Her seemed unsettled as if her attendance wasn’t a great idea after all. He swallowed before reluctantly asking. “Are you ready?

“Yes.” Imani answered quickly, closing the door behind her.

The silence was deafeningly awkward as the two avoided each other’s gaze down the hall, staircase and eventually to the garage.

“You look lovely.” Ralf said after twenty minutes of suffocating quiet.

“Oh, thank you.”

“When did you have time to find a dress?”

“Oh,” She chuckled. “I made this.”

Raising his brows, Ralf glanced over to eye the dress a second time. “In a week? That’s impressive.”

Imani studied him for a moment, unable to determine if he was being facetious. “Thank you. I don’t have much else to do and sewing is calming. Not quite as knitting but still…” Her voice drifted off as she felt needlessly chatty.

Silence resumed its uncomfortable hold as Imani bit and fidgeted with the skin on her cuticle.

“Are you nervous?” Scarlet eyes past a second glance at his guest.

“A little. I don’t know what is expected of me.”

“There’s very little you’ll need to worry about. Oliver is an excellent host.” Doubting if his words were actually helpful, he gripped the steering wheel tighter. _It was going to be a most uncomfortable evening at this rate._

* * *

Arriving to the well-lit restaurant, valet knocked on Ralf’s window as he motioned for Imani to exit with him. Blinding flashes from the paparazzi induced anxiety inside Imani as she tensed visibly. Ralf gently placed his arm around her shoulder, leading her away from the camera’s glare into the dining hall where servers swiftly offered hors d'oeuvres galore while eager chefs impatiently waited for their critiques.

Imani’s displacement became obvious as the stares of curiosity, uncertainty and judgement began instantly. “Just stay beside me and you’ll be fine.” Ralf’s husky whisper caressed her ear as Imani resisted the urge to shiver.

His intentions didn’t initially include having Imani shadow him, but Ralf quickly deduced his options. Alberta hadn’t arrived yet and Oliver was preoccupied. Enrique would likely be flirting with various heiresses, and Johnny would be terrifying some poor server for not having a stronger liquor available.

An empty table sat a good distance from view as Ralf aimed to sit there for most of the evening. The two were about half way through the room whenever, a woman who resembled Abigail, sauntered over. “Ralf Jürgen, a pleasure to see you again!” Not recognizing the woman, distress filled Ralf as he scanned the space behind her, the table disappearing from sight. “Come on, don’t you remember the sister to your future wife?” A wolfish grin crossed her features as Imani suddenly grew unnerved at the closeness between herself and the Jürgen heir.

“Ah yes, Closinda. How are you?”

“I’m excited to be here, though not nearly as excited to see your face as Alberta is.” Turning her attention briefly to Imani, she opened her mouth to speak whenever Ralf politely evaded the conversation. “Please excuse us. It was lovely to see you.”

The further into the dining room, the more stares Ralf and Imani faced. The hushed whispers, the curious glances, the growing gossip. Feeling perturbed by the high class society, Imani reconsidered her decision to attend when an older mixed race couple approached. “Might I just say,” Strong French accent glistened the slurring words. “That you two would make a divine couple.”

Blood rushed to their faces as Ralf and Imani politely nodded. “Merci.” They said in unison as the husband pulled his giggling wife to the dancefloor. Resisting the urge to grin was difficult as Imani and Ralf locked eyes before she broke her gaze. Ralf’s eyes traced the shape of her face. Celadron eyes enhanced by shimmery gold eyeshadow and a delightful ruby on her voluptuous lips. Her courage to travel so far from home. Her intellect, consideration, and dedication to her country. Her kindness in saving him in the first place. Chagrin overcame him as he realized that in the months she had stayed with him, he hadn’t thanked her for saving him from those armed men. Seconds away from death’s hand and she pulls him and one of his dearest friend’s to safety without expecting anything in return. Lady Aramis had struck the deal with him, not her. _‘She’s been a pawn in this entire game despite her strength to be something, or rather, **someone** , greater.’_ The Queen’s chess piece before his eyes, he noticed her glance through her peripherals.

 _‘What could he be staring at?’_  Imani wondered glancing through her peripherals. “Yes?”

“I never-”

“Ralf, you made it!” Champagne had long since kissed Oliver’s lips as he tipsily embraced his guests. “And you’ve brought Imani. What a delight.”

“Oliver, is there somewhere we could go to have just a moment of privacy?”

Oliver raised a brow, salacious smirk creasing his lips. “I know of just the place. Come with me.” Leading them through the crowd, violet eyes sharpened on Imani and Ralf disappearing through the kitchen door. The Mcgregor heir wasn’t well known for his mental clarity while drinking, in fact, he’d become downright unreliable when it came to identifying any situations that would need proper retrospection.

“Did you see that?” He mumbled to Enrique. The heir to an Italian shipping company was currently distracted by the kisses, tugging, and giggles by the two women on either side of him.

“What’s that? Did you say something?”

Irritated, Johnny took another sip. Distrusting Oliver’s previous attempts to play matchmaker, he wobbled to his feet before hearing Enrique’s condescending encouragement to sit down. “You’ll cause an upset if you don’t.”

Glaring at the blond, Johnny waved over a server. “I’ll pay you twice the amount you make here tonight if you tell me what’s happening between Ralf Jürgen and the woman he brought here tonight…”

The server nodded obediently before setting down the remaining glasses of champagne before returning to the kitchen…

* * *

 

Oliver led Imani and Ralf into a small corner before ordering the chefs present to leave. “I can spare only a few minutes. Then dessert will need to be served.”

“You have our thanks.” Ralf said as Oliver smirked passing a glance between the two before leaving.

“Imani,” Blood rushed through his body as Ralf suddenly found selecting his words difficult. “When we were still in Haiti, and those armed guards came for Oliver and I, you saved us.”

Imani nodded slowly, uncertain of which direction he was going.

“I never properly thanked you. I’ve not properly acknowledged how much dedication you’ve put into for the service and benefit of your country. And I feel so selfish to not doing this sooner…”

Taking a step forward, he watched as she didn’t flinch. Her head was slightly tilted as he had the deepest look into her eyes, the warmest feeling of touch as their hands crossed.

“We’ve been distant lately. I didn’t mean for you to find out about…Alberta how you did.”

The near tangible disappearance of sprinkling allure had been replaced with a downpour of despondency.

The dejection hadn’t stopped physically in Imani. His words seeped deeper into her than he had intended as his shoulders dropped. “Imani-“

“Will this affect our decision to work together as liaisons?”

He stammered, taken back by the sudden impassiveness that clouded her eyes. “No, not in the least. I want to work with you, Imani. I want to see the finality of our plans we’ve implemented. I still-“

The kitchen door swung open as a server faded into the background, fetching more champagne. Carefully listening, he slowly lifted the bottle from the dark corner out of their sight.

Ralf felt hollow as he tried to explain his reasoning further.

Imani stopped him. “You have no need to explain your fiancé to me. It’s not necessary.”

“That’s the thing I want to explain- wait, did you say fiancé?” Ralf halted in his words. “Alberta isn’t my fiancé. I never proposed. We were betrothed.”

Imani quirked a brow. “Betrothed? As in someone else arranged for you two to marry, without you falling in love?” Her tilted head made Ralf repress his chuckle.

“Yes. Essentially. It’s meant to encourage amity among the noble families. Her family runs the Religion and Civics division in the EU.”

Imani blinked. “Will you do me a favor?”

Ralf stood up straight, prepared for a hefty request.

“Close your eyes.” She insisted.

Sighing, he reluctantly closed his eyes as Imani stood closer to him. “Imagine you’re married to Alberta. It’s been one year. Then five. Then ten. Then fifty. Now open your eyes.”

Scarlet eyes fluttered open as their faces were just inches apart. “Were you happy?”

A mixed expression of misery and pain filled his features as he gulped.

The server, who had remained quiet until now, dropped an ice bucket. The shattering drew attention from outside the kitchen as Oliver rushed in with chefs following him.

French curses reached Imani and Ralf’s ears as Imani suddenly smiled at the colorful language. The Bollinger heir held a hand up to silence the chef’s threats. “Verdier, please see to it that this mess is cleaned and that the desserts are served promptly. I’ll need to explain this to father before someone else does.”

His gaze was drawn to Imani and Ralf as the two stood just a kiss apart. Oliver smirked knowingly before closing the kitchen door behind him. Deciding to return to the Dining Hall, the two split apart and made for opposite sides of the room. Ralf, was embraced by various nobles in the Essert family. Imani had found a seat behind the crowds as a delectable plate of fruits, puff pastries, and cream was delivered to her. She had just finished her first plate when the second arrived with a choice of cake in various flavors. Ralf watched from afar as she nibbled in delight, eyes brightening. Feigning attention in what the boastful and proud cleric was saying, he nodded absentmindedly; eyes lighting up at Imani’s various expressions of enjoyment. They’d serve as a highlight while discussing the archaic laws regarding reproductive rights, tax exemptions, and of course providing stipulated resources to impoverished countries. A boiling disdain filled his stomach, as a larger picture was being drawn in his mind. His father’s insistence combined with Alberta’s eagerness to bear children…suddenly stuck a nerve in him. The desire for as many heirs has always been a condition for marriage but why the precipitous push?

Their attention was drawn by the annual visit from the French Orchestra who played magnificent Christmas carols from the center of the room.

Leaving the Essert family to join Imani sitting at the table, Ralf grimaced as though he’d been caused physical pain discussing plans with his future in-laws. “Enjoying yourself?”

“This is by far the best cake I’ve ever had.”

“Not surprising.” Ralf sat down before her. “The Bollingers have generations of culinary brilliance in their blood.”

Imani nodded, swallowing her food. Allowing her eyes to travel, she studied him. Scarlet eyes felt her stare, as Ralf blinked. “What is it?”

“It’s Christmas and you’re still working. Even if you’re not saying anything, you’re still formatting plans in your head.” He smirked. “I didn’t realize you had been studying me.”

“I study whatever I can get my hands on.”

He quirked a brow at her choice of words. She had returned to her plate of sweets, savoring the last bit of crème on her finger.

“So this is the one who supposedly saved your arse awhile back?” A voice caused them to overlook their shoulders as Johnny invited himself to the table. “She doesn’t look like much.”

“She is much more capable than you’ll every comprehend and will be shown the respect she rightfully deserves as a foreign liaison.” A passion fierier than he’d planned rose from his chest as Ralf felt the surprised glances from his teammates and house guest land onto him.

“Tch.” Johnny rolled his eyes. “Wound up as ever, eh captain?”

Ralf quelled his anger after taking a second look at Johnny. His eyes were glazed over, his words had slurred, he was drunk. Knowing that dismissing anything he said would be best as a server approached. Ralf, steeping in his irritation, didn’t notice the familiar face.  An unsettling coil in her stomach caused her to set down her fork and look over at Johnny sporting the confidence of a knowing look.

Shielding her discomfort, she looked at Ralf. “What happens next at this soiree?”

“A few more carols to be played. We’re towards the end. Less than half an hour and then we’ll leave.” Scarlet eyes passed a brief glance catching only the hint of worry on Imani’s face. Just when he believed his mood could not sour any further, fate decided otherwise. Alberta whimsically flounced into his line of sight as Ralf resisted the urge to cringe at his latest nickname. “Ralfie! I’m just delighted to see you’ve made it!”

He placed an insisted kiss on her hand as she beamed. An incoherent babble flowed from her lips as she greeting Johnny before her eyes reached Imani. Leaning just inches from Ralf’s face, she whispered in German. “Is that the new liaison to your family? Imansi?”

“Yes, _Imani_ is the liaison to my family.”

Alberta huffed. “She doesn’t seem like much. What does she do?”

Imani didn’t need to speak German to understand that she was being sized up. Alberta’s shifting glances to and from Ralf were enough to for her to realize Alberta thought she reeked of trifling potential. Feeling her blood boil, she stood abruptly from the table. Her head lowered and her eyes darkened, she rounded her fists and made for an exit.

Relieved to see that the paparazzi had dispersed, she continued down the sidewalk out of sight of the grand restaurant.

_‘That look. I’ve fought against that **look** my whole life. Ineffectual savage. Blasphemous voon. I’m willing to bet they’ve never faced discrimination a day in her life. Dwol kaka, mouths full of shit.’_

Her infuriation was quelled suddenly as she looked up. Soothing white flakes descended from the sky as Imani felt compelled to cup her hands together. Snow was only something she’d seen in movies. There were always cheery people opening their mouths to dance, throw, and taste the flakes. Curiosity got the best of her, as her lips parted just long enough for a flake to tickle her tongue. Her eyes closed, she smiled at her folly. For some reason she imagined them sweeter. But they tasted just like the small bits of ice they were meant to be. The heels she had managed to sneak out and buy were thinner in snow as she suddenly wished for the boots in the window she saw.

“You’ll catch a cold if you make this a habit.” Turning around, the street lights revealed Ralf standing with his jacket over his shoulder. “Here.” Imani took a step back, placing her hand out before her. “I don’t need your-“  Hearing the harshness in her words, she stopped and glanced down. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Johnny and Alberta were being disrespectful.” Ralf offered his jacket again as Imani nodded. Wrapping it around her shivering shoulders, he took out his cell phone and called the valet. His eyebrows furrowed whenever his French failed him.

Extending her hand, Imani smiled. “May I?”

Handing her the phone, she politely communicated with the driver, indicating the street they were on. Ralf blinked as she returned the phone. “If your German is half as good as your French, no wonder you were offended.”

Shaking her head, Imani looked at him. “My German is terrible. But I’ve received that look before.” Sadness replaced the anger in her eyes as Ralf tilted his head. “Do you need to discuss it?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Well, we do have the drive back.”

The headlights of his car revealed a trusting gaze as she smiled.

* * *

 

His knuckles had long since burned white as he gripped the steering wheel. His jaw had clenched and his chest and dropped as infuriation set fire to his bones. Imani had spent the drive discussing the racism, classism, and discrimination she had faced at the hands of the government. Those uniformed men were hired hands set to decimate the population of The Crux and any ties to it. He knew little of the French hold in Haiti and less of the conflict between the France and Italy over one hundred years ago. Hearing of such blatant and unresolved racism was vexing as a barrage of questions came to mind. Choosing them in order of importance while respecting the boldness and personal ignorance on the subject, he spoke slowly.

“So, is that why you decided to pursue politics?”

“Yes. Revolts only go so far. Though, even then there’s a crossroads I’m constantly fighting. On one hand, I see diplomacy as a means to equality, peace, and change. On the other hand I seek…”

“Revenge in its truest form?” Ralf offered at her pause.

“Yes.” Guilt settled into her eyes as she wondered if she should have opened up so much.

“Imani,” Ralf offered his hand. “You have no reason to feel shame for revenge. It’s a primal feeling. One you’re not alone in feeling.”

Imani tilted her head, waiting for him to finish.

“I can already tell that you know what it’s like to strive for a change in fate. My father…has always based my life on his mistakes. The grating unfairness pales in comparison to yours but I just want you to know you’re not alone.”

Unsure of what to expect, Ralf glanced through his peripherals, seeing Imani smile. Extending her hand, she gently grasped his, as he curved his hand around hers.

“Thank you.”

* * *

 

The ambiance of the quietly crackling fireplace, coupled with the steeping of steaming tea soothed over the tensions of the evening. Imani and Ralf sat in their chairs, hands clasped, hearts comforted. He had relaxed his head back, scarlet eyes disappearing behind his eyelids giving Imani opportunity to study her latest subject more. His diamond shaped face revealed the inheritance of his mother’s cheek bones and nose. Similar to her cheeks, his lips seemed etched into his flesh, giving her reason to believe that smiling was truly an unnatural practice in this family. Tracing the curvature of his face, she recognized that stress had long since made their home beneath his eyes. Lines indicated that pragmatism began relentlessly early giving rise to the furrowed brows of frustration, present even while he dozed off. His hair was the second indication of fatigue as the precise combing had scattered, providing evidence that he bore some normalcy. A loose strand in particular completed the look of the Jürgen heir as slumber had finally granted him some tranquility away from day’s responsibility.

In spite of all of this, Imani felt the growing presence of attraction in her veins. The flutters in her heart grew greater as her breathing shifted. His hand had relaxed some time ago as she gently released the loose grasp to tuck the loose strand behind his ear. Curving her fingers on the side of his face, she bit her lower lip, watching for a reaction. His head rolled towards the warmth of her hand causing him to stir. Sleep filled eyes blinked as he swallowed. “I’m terribly sorry. What were you saying?”

Imani chuckled. “Nothing at all. We haven’t said two words since we agreed to tea.”

Ralf nodded, hazily. He glanced towards his bed before returning to the fireplace.

“You need sleep.” Imani stood from her chair, eyes captivated by the warmth of the flames.

“Has Gustav not had your fireplace lit, yet?”

Imani shook her head. “Should he have?”

“Yes.” Ralf released an exasperated sigh. “I’m sorry. I don’t think he’s doing this be…” The word felt too repulsive to say.

“Racist?” Imani finished. “No, he’s not. I’ve met my fair share of racists. He doesn’t qualify. I think he’s just uncertain of what to make of me. Protective, it seems.”

Ralf sighed in more relief than he anticipated as Imani smiled at him before leaving.

“You could stay…If you like. Your wing is the coldest during the winter months. I wouldn’t want you ill.”

Imani paused mid step. Her room had grown frigid. The quilt could only provide so much warmth in that large bed.

She accepted his offer with a nod as their eyes locked. He stood and motioned for her to follow him.

Flipping a light switch to his grand closet, he retrieved a long sleeve shirt before offering it to Imani. “I’m sure this will be more comfortable than sleeping in your dress.” Worried he’d come off as chauvinistic, he gulped. Imani flashed a grateful smile easing his nerves. “Thank you.”

He stepped out of the way as she entered the closet and began untying her dress. A lock of her hair caught in one of the knots as her dismayed sight reached his ears.

“Need help?”

“Just a bit. If you could…” Turning her back to him, he gently unraveled the silky string from her umbre braids blended subtly with calla lily crimson. The dress slid off her shoulders as she caught the fabric at her breasts bearing her tattoos. Ralf couldn’t resist his stare over the intricate design as Imani witnessed his awed expression reflect in the mirror in front of them. Smirking she turned around reaching for the shirt held tightly in his hand. Their bodies were just inches apart as his eyes grew wide upon seeing her second tattoo.  Lines of a Haitian proverb dotted above her breast. Ralf blinked, panic stricken as he couldn’t recall how long he’d been staring. “Imani, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-”

Imani placed a finger to his lips. “You haven’t caused any offense. I am quite comfortable with you seeing my tattoos.”

Caressing his face, he leaned once more into her touch. “Shall we go to bed?” Her voice was melodic as he closed his eyes, fatigue causing a slowed nod. “Why don’t you go first? You look like you’ll collapse any moment now.”

He nodded, before exiting the closet. Stripping out of his suit and sliding into a pair of bedtime trousers, he reconsidered the idea of sleeping shirtless next to a foreign liaison. Turning around, he found Imani dressed in his favorite nightshirt, fidgeting with the buttons. Her tattoo bled through his shirt as she caught him staring again.

“Arriving and leaving, hoping and remembering. That’s what life consists of.”

Blinking curiously, Ralf watched her climb into his bed from the opposite side. “That’s what the tattoo says in Creole.”

Nodding, he felt the knocking of inquiries he knew he was too tired to coherently ask. “We should sleep. We both need it.” Imani smiled before lying down. A pillow divided their spaces providing little resistance to the warmth of their bodies connecting. Their hands on the centered pillow, they turned to face one another. Celadron eyes locking with scarlet as slumber’s alluring kiss served as a proper ending to such a tremulous evening.

 

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	6. Winter: Chapter Three

_**~A: Just a friendly reminder to review as that motivates the author to continue writing the work you all seem to be enjoying. Thank you.** _

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the OC's.** _

* * *

 

 

Power and Control     

Winter: Chapter Three

 

 

Her body curved against his as the weight of her desires grew. Each honeyed moan and gasp dripped from her mouth to his ears as her hips teased him. Bliss seared inexperience as his head lifted, scarlet eyes screwing shut. His mouth opened slowly as a guttural, primal, distinctive request rose from the depths of his repressed yearnings. “Fuck me.” He breathed.

“You’ll have to be awake for me to do that...” The sultry, disembodied voice whispered in his ear.

Scarlet eyes shot open as Ralf jerked forward causing temporary agony to his erection. Breathing ragged, his heated flesh brought a flush to his cheeks as he attempted to gain some composure from his dream. Scanning the room, he froze at the sight of the foreign liaison, dressed and standing at the entry of his closet.  His folded shirt in her arms as she walked over and sat the article of clothing at his feet. “Thank you again.” Her demeanor was professional yet warm, Ralf deduced. As she began to walk away, he grabbed her hand, pulling her closer with more force than intended. She obliged, angling her body forward; her lips curving into a smile as she peered into his eyes. “What…” Ralf considered if he truly wanted the answer to the question he was about to ask as uncertainty filled his throat.

“Did you say last night?” Imani finished, celadron eyes containing the brightest hint of amusement. “You sleep talk but nearly every bit sounded German. Like you were angry. Your tone only _shifted_ in the early hours this morning.”

He raised a brow. “ _Shifted?”_ Imani had only enough time to glance down before they were interrupted by a knock at the door.

There was not a single soul in the household who would find their predicament acceptable if discovered, as Ralf tugged Imani backwards towards his closet. He’d placed a finger to his mouth and closed the door just in time to see Alberta entering his suite. His pants from the previous night were within grabbing distance as he roughly slipped them on. Alberta licked her lower lip before pressing him against the wall. Not anticipating the weight against him, Ralf paid little attention to the sudden indent in the wall behind his head.

Light still filled the large closet when Imani felt a sudden gap in the wall behind her. A curved stone staircase piqued her curiosity as Imani followed the steps to the upper level. The light murmurings of voices reached her ears as she had just enough room to peer through the lit crease in the doorframe. There was a man she’d seen before, standing in front of the desk. Winter had dulled Barthez’ hair to an opaque brown as Imani felt an unmistakable panic form inside of her.

 “Lady Aramis ought to be defenestrated. She’s the one obstacle preventing progress in regards to our plan. I can’t hold up my end of the bargain until she relinquishes her hold on the government officials.”

“I understand your plight, Barthez.” The second man was blocked from her sight by an ill placed plant.  “However, the council is quite taken with the prospect of being the first country to enter a resource agreement with Haiti. Well before any other country in Europe, Asia, or even the United States. This has been a highly coveted position for decades. For my son’s first case, I’m quite pleased.”

Barthez sighed in annoyance. “Sir, while you may be pleased, how long do you suppose this will last? We don’t even have a transparent number verified on how much if any of these resources are available.”

“You should check your sources, Barthez. What you hear echoes to me, not the other way around.” An aggravated silence caused Imani to shift uncomfortably as she wondered how long she’d been gone. “You know as well as I do, the EU won’t forgive another Port de Paix incident. We’re still covering our tracks from the Stateless Generation.”

Barthez sardonically cackled. “What’s a few more hundred lives to our government?”

“It wasn’t just a few hundred lives. These were tens of thousands, ruthlessly slaughtered.”

A sudden rush of blood trapped the words in her ears. Her celadron eyes grew wide in trepidation as she trembled uncontrollably. Her vision blurred with the sight of blood stains, blazing fires, and being submerged underwater. Urging herself to move, she miscalculated how many stairs remained as she slipped. Instinctively protecting her head, she landed at the base of the set of stairs with a crack rattling her body. Unable to pinpoint where the pain was stemming from, she grunted before placing herself in a crawl position. Realizing that she couldn’t properly place weight on her ankle, Imani endured the arduous task of standing at an angle. Hobbling towards the closet door, she was less than enthused to hear that he and Alberta were still engaged in their discussion.  

“Alberta, I will need to use my apologies sparingly throughout your stay for them to retain sincerity. Now, would you mind waiting in the hallway to continue this conversation. It’s untoward to engage when I’m not presentable.”

Shrill and guttural German spewed between both parties as a door slammed closed. Sudden unsteadiness befell Imani as her sight blurred just as Ralf opened his closet door.

 

* * *

  
Ralf closed the door silently behind him. Crossing the room in socks, jeans, and a long sleeve shirt, Ralf replayed the horrific image of Imani unconscious on his closet floor. He’d lost time arguing with Alberta leaving him only questions as to her swollen ankle and the lump bulging on her head. Gently cradling her body against his in ordinary circumstances would have been a mistake though relief filled him as she woke gently, hand caressing his face whenever their eyes connected as she smiled hazily before mouthing something. Placing his ear above her lips, a barely audible rasp made him suddenly wish he knew Creole.

“I’m sorry. But I don’t know what you’re saying.” Sitting her up slowly, he offered her a glass of water and some Advil.

“Thank you.” She breathed before the glass began to tremble in her hand. “My blood sugar is a little low. Could I have an orange or something?”

Ralf gently removed the glass from her hand, fingers lingering as their eyes connected. “The doctor will be here shortly. Do you think you can wait another few minutes?”

“I think so.” She forced a small smile before a knock at the door startled her. Gustav led in a man in white coat. “Herr Ludwig has arrived.”

“Thank you for coming.” Ralf eagerly shook the hand of the doctor before sending Gustav away. The obedient butler nodded before closing the door, barely containing the suspicion filling his eyes.

Ralf watched the doctor examine Imani, reading her reactions and asking for a recollection of the events that led to her losing consciousness. He watched as she stumbled in her words, fidgeting under the doctor’s strict gaze as Ralf returned to her side. There was one part of her story she wasn’t able or willing to discuss as she simply paused and shrugged her shoulders in defeat.

The doctor nodded before asking for a word with the Jürgen heir. They retreated to the fireplace in the next room to communicate.

“She seems to be exhibiting some anxiety. Has she mentioned anything since she woke? And how long was she unconscious for?”

“She was unconscious for twenty-three minutes and only requested something to eat.”

“Mm, likely low blood sugar. She doesn’t appear to have stroked or had an aneurism. Please inform her to remain hydrated and to eat. I’ll return to check on her tomorrow.”

“Thank you, doctor.” Ralf seemed relieved at how unconcerned the doctor was. The palpable relief on her face was comforting to him as he returned to her side. “We’ll just need to make sure that you’re eating and staying hydrated.”

Imani nodded, chagrin flooding her features.

“You don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to. I’m fully prepared to expound that stress is what caused this.”

Imani nodded, realizing now was not the time to explain what she heard. Her eyes floated to his appearance, drawing a sense of insecurity to him.

“I look disheveled, I know.”

She shook her head. “You look rested.”

He smirked. “I did sleep well last night.” Standing from the window sill to prop himself beside her. “About this morning…”

“You don’t have to discuss it if you don’t want to.” She responded in the same reassuring tone. An air of intimacy surrounded them as their eyes lingered, hands brushed, mouths parted. Leaning closer, they could feel the heat from each other’s bodies whenever a knock caused them to freeze. Imani’s lips tilted just below Ralf’s, time allowed for only an exchange of forlorn expressions before Gustav entered the room. His brow twitched at the sight of his Master so close to the foreign liaison. His composure shifted as Ralf sighed standing from the bed.

“Yes, Gustav?”

“The Baroness would like to speak with you at the soonest convenience.”

Ralf blinked knowing full well what the underlying message was in that statement. _‘Alberta had fussed and now his mother would be scolding him.’_

The aggravation was evident as Ralf stiffened. Turning rigidly towards Imani, he excused himself to exit the room.

Sighing, Imani watched Gustav eye her unkempt appearance as she slid from his bed. She could almost hear the repulsion in his thoughts as she imagined him wondering just _what position_ she’d been in to cajole the Jürgen heir into the resource deal.

Ignoring the gaze following her out his suite, Imani descended the first staircase to cross into her suite. Not surprisingly, the maids were whispering in front of her recently lit fireplace. They scrunched up their faces at her bedraggled appearance as their scowls as Imani grew irritated. Reaching for her bag, they flinched as Imani retrieved a vile of incense. Pouring a bit into her hand, they gasped as she blew a handful into the fire. Scrambling for the door, Imani rolled her eyes as they fled the room.

* * *

 

Ralf watched at the maids scurried from Imani’s room as he quirked a brow from the bottom of the stairs.

“Master Ralf,” Gustav called to him. “Will you be enjoying dinner in the study this evening?”

“No, actually. Would you be kind enough to send it to Imani’s suite?” Sensing Gustav’s hesitation, Ralf overlooked his shoulder. “Yes?”

“It’s just that Ms. Lantier has been eating on a rather late schedule.”

“I am aware. Is there anything else you need to inform me of?”

“No, sir.” Gustav’s response was exasperated.

“Very well. Please send dinner to her suite. I’ll ask not to be disturbed further than that tonight.” Smirking, Ralf ascended the stairs leaving a perturbed butler to bow obediently.

* * *

 

The hot bath had been beneficial in reducing her swollen ankle as Imani leaned her head back against the large tub. Steam rose from her body as celadron eyes replayed the image of cuddling in Ralf’s bed the night prior. He embraced her in a manner deeper than modest comfort. Her adoptive mother was warm, funny, and supportive. Despite Imani’s insecurities, Lady Aramis never lost patience or hope in encouraging her independence while flourishing her need for a healthy parent-child relationship. Imani wasn’t naïve enough to believe that all children had that, she knew they didn’t. Submerged into the steamy water, a moment of clarity struck her. She knew as much of Ralf’s story as he presumed to hers.

The closing of a door alerted her senses as she sat up. The smell of food reached her nose as she stood.  

Draping a towel over herself, she entered her room to find Ralf sitting at the coffee table, gazing into the fire. The sound of water dripping off her and onto the carpet alerted his senses as scarlet eyes blinked in wonder at the body barely covered by the thin towel. Catching himself staring, he found tearing/ his eyes away increasingly difficult as Imani smiled.

“You brought dinner?”

“Hm?” He cleared his voice. “Oh, yes. I figured we could discuss the next resource deal.”

“Absolutely.” Making for her armoire, she opened the door, allowing her towel to drop. Dressing in a tank top and shorts, her admired how the moonlight reflected against her skin.

She ambled towards him, pencil and notepad in hand, she smiled as the plates of food drew her attention.

“Do you have somewhere you’d like to begin? If not I have some ideas…” Sitting next to him, Ralf faltered as the wondrous blend of Jasmin and Shea butter melted into her flesh reached his nose. Scarlet eyes trailed from her moving lips to her collar bone. Her tank top slid off her shoulder as he felt intrigued by the intricacies of the tattoo above her breast.  Finally taking a moment to look at her skin color, his scarlet eyes studied the complexion rich with a mixture of sepia and topaz. Temptation extended into his palms causing an ache as he felt her warmth radiate from her body to his. “Imani,” He savored the taste of her name on his tongue. His heart skipped a beat as her celadron eyes looked over to him. Her enthusiasm paused, curiosity piqued in what he had to say. “I just wanted to thank you. I don’t think you’ve realized what last night meant for me.”

Imani took a moment to break the stare before inhaling. “I must confess something. I came to the realization that I judged you pretty harshly before and I’m sorry for that.”

Ralf tilted his head.

“I was presumptuous in my belief that you were this privileged, entitled…” She paused searching for the proper word.

“Egotist?”

She nodded gaze dropping, slightly embarrassed as her hands curled in her lap.

“For a while I was. During my teen years, I was at the height of elitism. Pride blinded my sight from humility. I’m glad I met someone who was willing to unveil that to me.”

Imani nodded, stomach diffusing the tension in the air. Ralf chuckled. “Come on, let’s eat.”

* * *

 

Hours past as Imani and Ralf laughed above their empty plates, bottle of her country’s alcohol resting at the bottom of their glasses. “And he just opens the door to see me eating the cake from the center of the plate and just loses it.”

“I can imagine. You eat your desserts from the middle!”

Imani reclined onto her arms, hair falling from her face as she curved her gaze in his direction. Their laughter had stopped as a salacious tension filled the shrinking space between them. Eyes locked, mouths parting as the two leaned closer. Imani bit her lower lip as Ralf’s hand reached around her waist, pulling her closer. Imani slid her knees apart, lifting herself onto his lap. Watching for his reaction, she rocked against his hips feeling his growing erection. His eyes fluttered, reopening in hazed pleasure. “Imani…” He yearned for more. She leaned her head closer to him, lifting his chin, staring deeply into his eyes. “Are you certain?”

He nodded. “I’m not drunk. I can still offer consent.”

Imani felt him slide a hand behind her head, connecting their lips as she inhaled him. Spiced crème, peppered with a savory basil requested entry into her mouth as she happily obliged. Their kiss deepened as she thrust her hips against his, earning a guttural moan. He pulled on her shirt as the fabric slid over her breasts. Feeling the excitement in his palms, she exerted a bit more weight as Ralf reclined beside the fireplace. Placing a slew of kisses on his neck, she suckled suddenly as his breathing grew ragged. Rocking her hips, she began teasing, _tempting_ him to glide into her thin shorts. He placed his hands on her hips, thrusting roughly as she dug her nails into his wrists. She managed to suppress her moan before another wave of pleasure caused her to gasp. Leaning down, she contained just enough of her air to breathe into his ear. “Bed, now.”

 

Rocking his body upwards, he pressed a hurried kiss to her lips before grabbing her bum. Hoisting her into the air as he stood, she snaked her arms around his neck, pleasure filling her eyes.

Placing her on the bed, his trail of kisses grew more intense as he reached her breast, feeling her hands grip his hair. His hands travelled to her hips, yanking the shorts off before parting her legs. Releasing her breast, Imani could feel Ralf’s hunger at the sight of her. Sliding an eager finger inside of her, he gently thumbed her clit. Initially moving forward and back, Imani happily guided him in circles as she tensed around his index and middle fingers. Even thrusts caused her to moan and gasp as they locked eyes. Increasing his speed, he watched as her eyes flutter shut. Her growing sounds were melodic to his ears as he needed to taste her. Lowering his head, his felt her hands pull him closer. Tasting her every crease, she began to buck her hips, climax approaching. An incoherent muttering had just reached his ears whenever she gasped and reclined her expression from sight; waves of pleasure overcoming her.

Bliss blinded her sight as Imani hazily smiled. Ralf had slipped out of his pajama pants, before positioning himself on top of her. He looked to her for consent as she nodded. He entered her slowly, gasps falling from his lips. She embraced him as he began to thrust faster and harder. Sweat dripped between his shoulder blades as Imani dug her nails into him. Fisting the sheets below their bodies, Ralf felt his hair partially blind him as bliss began to take hold. Thrusting deeper inside of her, he lowered his chest against her bouncing breasts. He could feel her soaking around him, their climax closing in. “Imani,” he gasped, his voice dipping, a throaty groan to rise from within him. Pressing a passionate kiss to his lips caused him to lose the finality of his control. His orgasm filled her, causing her to writhe in pleasure beneath him.

Collapsing into the crevice of her neck, the two breathed in synchronicity. Their bodies trembled with pleasure as they gazed into each other’s eyes before kissing softly.

* * *

 _ **~A: What are your thoughts on Imani and Ralf?  How is the story progressing?**_  

 

 

 

 

 

 


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